Page 40 of Julian

I have absolutely no expectations of such a repeat invite, but I can’t help but wonder if he will. I’ve decided that if he does, I need to firmly decline. I can’t keep letting him blur the line between employer and employee this way, because… well, it’s weird.

The front door opens abruptly and Dylan calls out, “Harper… you’ll never guess what happened!”

The glass nearly slips out of my hand, and I catch it at the last second as my heart lurches over the near catastrophe.

“What?” I turn toward Dylan, still barely gripping the glass. “What happened?”

His backpack is half hanging off one shoulder, his entire face lit up in a way I don’t see nearly enough these days. “Julian ‘Freaking’ Langley gave our entire senior class tickets to the Vipers’ game tonight,” he gushes.

I blink at him. “What?!”

The tap is still running behind me, water rushing steadily over a pile of dishes I’ve forgotten about because all I can focus on is him—and what he just said—and the way my brain is trying, unsuccessfully, to catch up.

Dylan nods so hard he looks like a bobblehead. “The entire class! I can go, right? I got all my homework done today at study hall so I’m good.”

“Wait,” I say, shaking my head slightly, like that might help rearrange the information into a coherent thought. “No, that doesn’t—why would he—how would—”

Dylan laughs, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen.

“They’re doing this whole thing,” he says, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs. “Like, trying to get more kids into hockey. Social media, school stuff, whatever. We had an assembly about it last week, but I didn’t think I’d actually—” He cuts himself off, grinning again, running a hand through his hair. “They picked a few public schools and just… gave out tickets. Like, a bunch of them.”

I turn off the water without looking, the sudden quiet in the kitchen disorienting. “To tonight’s game?” I ask, my mind spinning on how to get him there. I mean, he can take the subway, but I’d be more comfortable if he was going with some friends.

“Yeah. Tonight’s game. Are you working tonight?”

I set the glass down carefully this time and nod, trying to figure out logistics. A strange, dizzying sensation stirs in my chest, and I’m caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. I dry my hands on a towel.

“Really?” I manage.

Dylan looks at me like I’ve asked a ridiculous question. “Yes, I’m serious,” he says. “We all got them. They gave us, like—actual legit good seats. Not nosebleeds or anything.”

I press the towel between my hands, grounding myself in the motion. “That’s… really good,” I say finally, and this time I mean it. “That’s actually—really good.”

Dylan’s smile softens a little. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

I glance at him again. For him, this isn’t complicated. It isn’t layered with context or connection or whatever strange orbit my life has suddenly fallen into.

It’s just… a hockey game.

A night out.

Good fortune landing, unexpectedly, in the middle of everything else.

And standing there in our too-small kitchen with water still drying on the counter and dishes waiting in the sink, I let it be that simple too.

My phone buzzes softly against the counter, the sound threading its way through the quiet just as I’m settling back into the rhythm of dishes and water and everything comfortably ordinary.

I try to ignore it, but the timing, or maybe instinct, pulls my attention down anyway.

It’s a text from Julian, and somehow… that seems right.

I pick up the phone, my thumb hovering for the briefest second before I open it.

Hopefully you know by now we have some special guests coming to watch the Vipers. Dylan should ride with us tonight, so you don’t have to worry about him.

I exhale, steadying myself, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m steadying against. I should decline his offer for Dylan to ride with us. The offer is beyond generous and would alleviate my concerns about how he will get there, but it seems decadent to accept when I’ve done nothing to deserve such a thing.

However, I know that even if I politely decline, he’s just going to strong-arm me into accepting. He’s done that on more than one occasion, and I’ve learned enough about Julian Langley to know he won’t accept no for an answer.